(Nine Poets Speak) Blood in the Wind, Mother by Leonore Wilson

[Editors’ Note: Learn about how the “Nine Poets Speak” series came to be in place here.]

Image by: Mystic Soulwork Fine Art Prints, Mystic Couple, Heather, Owner, Shipper, Designer and Carlos, Maker, Assistant, Designer

Mother, let me tell you a secret//Your flowers always died in my hands.
And I hated being the goddess of spring//Something you could never understand.
from "Persephone,” by Nadi


Blood in the wind, Mother,
as the motionless animals burn,

and our idle flesh scraping
like metal on metal,

or the sound of chains
dragging a heavy thing.

Once you gave me a ladder
with no rungs,

you gave me a door
that did not

open while the darkness paid
attention.

Where is it you asked?
Who is it?

And I could not
answer.

Your eyes the color of gun sheen
as laughter

broke from your mouth
while the wind bent the grass

flat then raised it up
again.

Mother who plaited my hair,
remember the god who pulled me

through the opening
which is called waiting

when you were inconsolable saying--
I am alone now

like the water swallow
the heron full of hunger

the doe dragging
its broken leg, urgent

without hurrying…

Look hard, mother,
consider my affliction.

Haven’t I always been your plot,
your denouement,

your indispensable ruse
allotted between here

and there

between unsaying and
forgetting?

Meet Mago Contributor, Leonore Wilson – Return to Mago E-Magazine (RTME)


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2 thoughts on “(Nine Poets Speak) Blood in the Wind, Mother by Leonore Wilson”

  1. Oh My god Mary -this one is so nuanced – says too much that will be missed by many – YOUR GIFT IS AMUTI FACETED JEWEL…BLESSED BE THE TRUTH TELLERS.

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